Juxtaposition
by tere moto the sentry
Summary: A mostly Dib and Zim centric collection of one shots. Various genres but not romance.
1. Lens, Trends

Author's Note: This first chapter is my fourth fan-iversary present to my readers.

This "collection of one-shots" thing seems to be a growing trend, and it sounded like fun. I couldn't find anything in the rules that said we couldn't do something like this on this site, so I started my own.

Titles of one-shots are indicated in bold and underline. A chapter may contain just one one-shot, or more than one.

Disclaimer: "Invader ZIM" belongs to Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon.

**Lens**

"Aarrgh! Zim _cannot stand_ these itchy contacts!"

Overhearing, a few children glanced over and then whispered among themselves.

"Aw, man, Zim's been complaining a lot about those lenses lately."

"Yeah. Poor guy."

One skool child a few tables away took her mouth off her juice box straw and leaned in towards her friend's ear.

"That poor kid. It's too bad he doesn't have a nose or ears so he could wear glasses."

**Trends**

At about 5 pm one Friday Dib found himself with quite a bit of time on his hands, so he hoped a visit to the library would cure his boredom.

Upon arriving, he headed straight for his favorite section, but while passing the magazines a flash of green skin caught his eye.

"Zim!" Dib struck an action pose in preparation, but when Zim didn't even look up, the boy cautiously relaxed and approached him. Zim was calmly sitting at a table, leafing through some very…normal-looking reading material.

"What're you up to this time, Zim?" Dib demanded.

The alien gave him a slightly testy look. "I am merely reading one of these fascinating Earth maggot-zeens. That's what normal worm-babies do, yes?" He returned to leafing through the magazine and feigning interest. "Mm-hmm…hmm…mm-hmm…Informative. Who knew green was this year's blue?"


	2. What Do You Mean?, Bedtime

Author's Note: "Bedtime" is meant to imply ZaDF and not ZaDR.

**What Do You Mean?**

"True," Zita acknowledged thoughtfully. "But then, Dib's always interested in aliens and Bigfoot and all that crazy stuff."

"Yes, yes, that is crazy," Zim grinned sheepishly, "especially aliens."

He then took on a more serious tone. "But he does always follow his squeed—_heart,_ and that is something you—_we_ humans consider admirable, yes?"

"Yeah, but not when his heart's leading him to craziness," she said. "But I see where you're coming from."

Zim froze as Zita walked away, and his eyes shot upward and scanned the sky in bewilderment. _'You mean Irk is visible from Earth?'_

**Bedtime**

In a moonlit bedroom, Dib had just fallen asleep for the night.

In a monitor-lit control room several blocks away, Zim was sitting down to one of his favorite hobbies.

"Computer, bring up the live feed of Dib's bedroom."

A window popped up on the screen and Zim focused on the slumbering child. An evil smile spread across the invader's face at the thought of his hidden camera having gone unnoticed for so many months.

"Now what secrets do you have for Zim tonight?" He falsely crooned, turning up the volume.

As if on cue, the boy began to whisper in his sleep. "Zim…"

"Yes, Dib-stink," Zim answered with a small chuckle.

"Zim…"

"Yes, yes, pig-smelly, go on," the Irken twitched in anticipation. But he was unprepared for what Dib said next.

"Don't go."

Zim blinked, and then sat unmoving for quite some time, staring blankly at the screen. He was certain he had heard correctly…But Dib was just having a dream. Surely he didn't mean everything he said, right?

He watched motionlessly as Dib wrapped his arms around air and the human's expression softened. Those two haunting words echoed in Zim's mind again and again. _Don't go._ And no matter how much he wanted to, for the rest of the night Zim did not.


	3. Fusion

Author's Note: I know the "continuation of the episode 'Abducted'" has been done before, but I had my own twist.

**Fusion**

"I'm setting the coordinates for our next specimen—the Earth weasel."

The ominous baby-disguised ship hovered over another suburban home, where two children stood watching with a strange—but perhaps experienced—calmness. A beam of light cast from the "infant" engulfed one of the children, and he dissipated, followed by the light. The other child, his younger sister, paid a glance to the happening before nonchalantly heading back to the house. Whether or not she was the least bit concerned for his fate, she was sure he would return by nightfall.

"What—Where am I?" Dib's eyes darted around the bridge of the ship before regarding his bizarre captor.

"You are now my prisoner," the blue-eyed alien pointed a sinister claw at the boy. "You're a fine specimen of the rare scythe-haired big-headed Earth weasel."

"_My head's not_—Wait, what?" Dib wondered if he had heard correctly, but a gesture by the alien to the large screen on the wall confirmed that he had.

"Earth _weasel?_" Dib blinked at the words on the screen, and then looked back at his abductor. "I'm not a weasel; I'm human!"

"Foolish Earthling!" The alien again gestured to the screen. "_This_ is a human!" On cue, a picture of a very familiar Irken was displayed.

"That's Zim!" Dib exclaimed, "He's no human—He's not even from Earth!"

"Stupid weasel," the alien shook his head. "Look at his neck."

"_I'm not a weasel!_"

"Of course you are," Blue-Eyes again signaled to the monitor, and a video began to play.

_Dib was walking down the sidewalk, when Zim jumped out of the bushes and landed in front of him._

"_Dib!" He pointed dramatically at the boy. "Zim, in all his genius, has figured out why your head is so big!"_

"_My head is _not—_"_

"_You're a weasel!" Zim announced. "What irony. All this time you were the one pretending to be human, while Zim was the real human!"_

"Zim was just being stupid!" Dib said crossly. "I'm human, he's Irken, and—hold on, how did you get that on tape?"

"Silence!" Blue commanded. "The experiments shall soon begin!" Ignoring the look of horror that crossed the child's face, he walked to the other side of the ship bridge and peered into the conjoining corridor.

"Son! Get in here and help me with fusin' this here weasel!"

"I'm busy, Pa!"

"You're just drinkin' juice!"

"Well, I deserve a juice break!"

"Get in here or you don't get no more juice!"

Grumbling, a second alien of the same species as Blue emerged from a neighboring room and joined him. This one had green eyes and clutched a juice box in his fist. He caught sight of Dib as he entered the bridge.

"Aww, just lookit 'im!" Green cooed. "'Ees a cute little weasel, ain't 'ee?"

"Wotcha think we should fuse him to?" Blue rubbed his hands together eagerly.

"_Juice!_" Green screeched excitedly.

"No, no, _no!_" Blue shouted. "You _always_ want to fuse _everything_ to my juice! You keep doing that and we'll run out of juice! And then how will you feel, huh?"

"Well then we'll just get more! You just want all the juice to yourself!"

"No, I just don't want it wasted and—hey!" Blue suddenly noticed that their "specimen" was now missing from the room.

"'Ees a _ghost weasel,_ Pa!" Green grabbed his father's shoulders frantically. "Now look whatcha done! Our ship's haunted and it's all because of you!"

"'Ee ain't no ghost! 'Ees escaping! After 'im!"

In a room down the hall, Dib panicked at hearing that his captors had discovered his absence. He continued his escape, passing from room to room by choosing random doorways. He was thankful that the two aliens did not have the sense to lock him out of most of the ship, or for that matter restrain him in the first place. Finally, he came across a large deck on the southwest wing; filled with a staggering number of glass specimen tanks—empty specimen tanks (this did not surprise Dib). But it was then that he spotted one tank nearby that was not vacant. Cautiously he approached to have a look at the unhappy creature inside. A white blob, with various small items stuck to its body, huddled in the bottom of the vial, sobbing. Placing a hand on the glass, Dib softly said, "Hello?"

A little startled, the little guy looked up at Dib with shiny, sad eyes.

"That leads to the escape pods," he pointed with one of his nubby appendages to a vent Dib had not noticed before. "Nice of you to stop by," the blob added bitterly, and again placed his face in his nubs.

"Who are you?" Dib asked. The blob looked back up at him as if surprised that he was still standing there.

"Oh, I'm the only specimen unable to escape," he said tearfully, and then looked down at himself, "after what they did to me."

"What did they do to you?" Dib asked in horrified concern.

"What they do to all specimens—fusion," the blob looked back at him. "For most specimens, they just fuse them once, with masking tape. But they've done it to me so many times, I guess somewhere along the line they had some 'spark of brilliance' and managed to make me into _this._"

Dib knelt down and leaned in closer. "What are you really?"

"I…I don't know what I am now," he looked Dib up and down, "but I think I was once…like you."

Dib's eyes widened. "You're…human?"

The blob gave him a sad smile. "Yes. It's been so long…I can't believe I forgot it was called that…_Human._"

Intrigued with the creature's plight, Dib found one more question for him.

"Do you remember what your name is?"

The blob smiled again, finding solace in his reverie. "…Louie."


	4. Meat

**Meat**

"You jerk." Dib turned to his enemy briefly.

"Eh…Erm—Well, it's your fault, sausage-human thing. You could have left me in my superior Irken form so I could have found the cure."

"What? You weren't going to find the cure for me if I hadn't put you in the same situation!"

"Oh, yes, that's right," Zim nodded awkwardly. "But you still shouldn't have spread your stupid condition to Zim because—well—I am Zim!"

There was a brief moment of silence. Dib contemplated something, and shuddered.

"Are you sure this isn't really fatal?"

"Of course not, Dib-stink," Zim reassured. "Your inferior human labs know nothing. Zim just lost his cool for a moment back there—though he quickly regained it—and I had momentarily forgotten that I hadn't designed the mutagen to actually kill you."

Dib cocked his head to the side—designating the upper part of his body as his "head". "You…hadn't?"

"No, Dib-human," his enemy told him. "Yet again, you fail to comprehend Zim's masterful plot. I intended to just turn you into a sack of meat so that you could sit by and helplessly watch me destroy your world."

Dib shook furiously. "If I still had my arms, I'd strangle you."

"Hhha!" Zim spat victoriously. "Too bad you don't! Wait, how are we even talking without mouths?"

"I dunno," Dib admitted. "And hey, don't make fun of me! _Neither_ of us has limbs right now!"

"Yes, but, uh, Zim can improvise without limbs! Even as an Irken sausage-beast-Zim," the alien gloated.

"Improvise? How?"

"I still have my Pak, see?" Zim shifted to the side to show it. "I still have my mechanical spider legs—I feel them in there."

"Wait—I forgot you have an extra set of legs!"

"Of course I do, stupid."

"How am _I_ stupid?" Dib shouted, inciting an eager bark from one of the dogs right outside. "Why don't you use your spider legs to escape?"

"Ehhuhh…" Zim scrambled for words. "I—uh—I thought of that, I just—eh…Silence!" He deployed his mechanical appendages and attempted to launch himself off of the couch.

"Uhhn…Ehh…nyuhh," he grunted, straining to lift his bloated body onto the floor. "Ehhhyehh uhhh uhhehhh…Eh, forget it." He retracted the legs and fell back onto the sofa.

"Well," Zim pointed out, "for now we at least have a comfy couch to sit on."

"And plenty of food," Dib noted, looking at their lunch-meat bodies.

Author's Note: Another episode continuation, as you may have recognized. I left out a key word to help make the "mystery" just a bit more challenging.


	5. Influence

Author's Note: This is really more the end of an episode with a little thrown in.

**Influence**

"Christmas is saved!" Earth's triumphant little hero proclaimed. As it so often was, though, his victory was short-lived.

"Hey!" cried out a man from the crowd. "That kid just threw Santa into the cold void of space!"

"Cwistmas is wuined fohwevoh," a small child concluded.

_No. No—they had to see._

"Would the real Santa have mutated into a giant blob?" Dib reasoned with the crowd. To his enthrallment, a spark of thoughtfulness came to the people. His heart began to pound. Maybe he finally had them! "And would the real Santa have enslaved the human race?" The spark had not gone. With a flame rising inside of him, Dib continued.

"You were so desperate for a real Santa, you believed a guy in a costume. That's not Christmas." The people—_his_ people—now seemed to have their eyes opened for the first time. But, with a world of realization now opened to them, they seemed to be looking to him for guidance.

"Go home," Dib encouraged gently. "Forget about this." He clasped his hands together. "And spend time with your families—or whatever."

The same man from before spoke up again. "The giant metal boy is right!" he exclaimed, mistaking the giant robot mech for Dib's actual body.

"What fools we've been!" a woman added, clapping a hand to her face.

Dib beamed—in an even bigger triumph. He was always saving the world from its unseen menace, but now…he had finally broken through to his people. Dib glanced heavenward with a smile. He could not have asked for a better Christmas present.

"Wait!" a familiar shriek shattered the yuletide tranquility. The crowd's attention was directed behind them, to the root cause of their would-be demise.

"Will you listen to the boy who threw Santa into space?" Zim called out. "Or will you listen to…the Easter Platypus?" He reached into a basket and began to toss out shrimp. "Easter shrimp for all if you tackle the boy who destroyed Santa!"

The crowd once again took on those blank looks of ignorance. "Easter Platypus, we love you!"

And so, blindly following another idolized figure, the people turned to Dib, who was just getting down from the battle mech.

"Wait—no!" the young boy cried out. But this did not deter the masses, nor did the fact that he was only a child while most of those many hundreds were adults. The first few tackled him to the ground, and more and more piled on until there was a gigantic mass of people on top of him, uninhibited by his screams of pain and terror as a great many blows were struck.

Zim's cry of "Merry Platypus!" went largely unheard as Dib's agonized cries reached the cold winter sky.

On that Christmas Eve, Dib had once again saved the world.

On that Christmas Eve, for one glorious moment, Dib had opened the eyes of his fellow humans.

On that Christmas Eve, by thousands of the people he had just saved, Dib was beaten to death.


	6. Go

**Go**

"Gaz? Gaz, wake up!" The girl's brother shook her. Gaz opened her eyes in surprise at his figure standing over her. It was particularly dark in her bedroom, and nearly the only thing quite visible about him was the glasses reflecting the moonlight from the window.

"Dib," she growled, "What do I have to do to keep you out of my room?"

"I know, but it's important," Dib breathed. Gaz raised an eyebrow. He almost sounded breathless.

"It better be," she warned.

Dib sighed, obviously not wanting to say what he had to. "Get dressed and grab your things. Extra clothes, pillow, Gameslave, stuff like that." He was beginning to sound like a father. "We gotta leave."

"Leave?" Gaz widened an eye. "What are you talking about?"

Dib looked down anxiously. "I'll explain later. Just hurry." He started to leave her room.

"No, wait—What's going on?" she called after him, climbing out of bed.

"It's a long story, Gaz," he turned back and looked at her, seeming genuinely concerned in whatever this matter was. "But trust me; we have to get out of here soon."

Gaz was not sure why she finally followed his instruction, but she blamed it on the idea that she must be half-asleep—though she felt very awake. Dropping her Gameslave into her backpack along with necessities, she opened her door slowly and peered into the hallway apprehensively. It was oddly dark out there as well.

"Dib?" she whispered into the darkness, and was startled by the creak of her brother's door. He emerged from his bedroom, saddling a bag of his own necessities. Seeing her, he looked relieved that she had complied with his request.

"You ready?" he asked.

"I guess…Why is it so dark?"

Dib did not answer; he seemed too preoccupied to even have heard her. He motioned her to come—a wide, sweeping gesture so that it could be seen in the darkness—and set off down the hall.

The two trekked down to the living room, which proved to be no lighter. Neither child said a thing as they made their way to the front door, but Gaz's eyes darted around the near-abyss in complete confusion. Her eyes fell on a wall clock, which provided the only light in the room. The LCD display informed her it was nearly 1 a.m. Where could her brother possibly need to go at this hour? She almost jumped when Dib spoke again.

"I have Tak's ship warmed up in the driveway. We should be able to leave right away."

"_Tak's ship?_" Gaz exclaimed. "How far _is_ this stupid trip?" Her agitation heavily mounted when she again did not receive an answer. Dib slowly and cautiously opened the door, and if Gaz strained her eyes she could see his hand was trembling. But she was not at all prepared for the sight she was met with beyond the door.

The town was, like the house, darker than it should have been. No streetlights were on, no houses were lit; and in fact…Gaz could not believe it, but she could have sworn that there were less houses in the suburb than the previous day.

As she followed Dib down the front walk, she dared to glance out at the city. It was mostly unlit, but a few beams flickered here and there oddly. She turned to question her brother again, but he was already at the ship, giving it a quick examination to make sure everything was in order. She approached him, but when she was almost there her attention was drawn to the sky.

Gaz froze in her tracks. Something was very obviously not right. By no means was she a stargazer, but she knew for certain this was not the same sky that had risen over her each night. There were large areas here and there which were completely devoid of stars, and in other places stars were clustered together in unusual formations. In one part of the sky, partially illuminated by a star cluster, was a distant sphere. It resembled a planet, but Gaz knew from Dib's ramblings that this was not one of the planets ever visible from Earth.

She did not want to admit it, but Gaz felt…horrified. Looking frantically for something more familiar in the star field, she was relieved to catch sight of the moon…but a pit formed in her stomach when she realized it was much, much farther away than it should have been.

"What did you do?" she almost choked on her words as she looked back at Dib. He was also looking at the sky, and when his eyes met hers, she could tell even in the dark that he was about to cry. He shakily opened the ship and climbed in, patting the passenger's seat in indication for her to follow suit. Ever so hesitantly she did, never taking her eyes off of him, and he closed the ship after her. Dib reluctantly pulled a few levers, and they were soon airborne. Gaz was thrust back in her seat as they launched forward, over the haunting cityscape, farther into the dark void.

"Tell me now, Dib," she demanded of him, "What happened? And…where is everybody?"

Dib was silent, biting his lip in anxiety, his eyes only fixed on the airspace ahead. Another chilling thought struck Gaz.

"Where's Dad?"

Dib refused to answer, but his face began to skew and twist into a look of pure torment as he drove.

"_Tell. Me. Now. Dib!_" she fumed, and when she did not get a word out of him, she launched herself at him, pinning him to the side of the ship, readying a fist. But this caused the ship to take a sharp dip downward, so Gaz recoiled back into her seat and allowed Dib to regain control of it.

She took to bottling her rage in silence, but was surprised to hear her brother's first words since they had left the house.

"Gaz…Do you trust me?"

Taken slightly off guard, Gaz blinked at him. He did not glance at her, but took a deep breath.

It was a question Gaz had never considered before. True, her brother devoted most of his time to saving the world, but he was also capable of causing catastrophes in his paranormal pursuits. But something in his eyes…something told her…

"Yeah…I guess."

Dib looked to be slightly eased by this, and both were then silent as the vessel pressed on to whatever strange destination he had in mind. Feeling tired—it being too early in the morning for travel—Gaz set her mind to drifting back into sleep. Normally she would leave dilemmas where they were, to be solved in the morning.

But she tried her hardest to fight off the feeling that this time, morning would never come.


	7. Miss Me?

Author's Note: This one is meant to imply DaGF and not DaGR.

**Miss Me?**

"Well, everything is in perfect order," the physician smiled while neatening a stack of medical records. "You had us worried there for a while, my boy, but now you're going to be just fine."

Dib returned the smile threefold. It was only now that he felt fully relieved of the heavy anxiety that had burdened him for nearly a week.

"He's completely free to go?" Professor Membrane asked to be certain.

"He certainly is," the doctor nodded, and eyed his former patient again. "I bet you're glad to be done with all of this at last, eh?"

"I sure am!" Dib answered with renewed vitality. He slid his hands down his sides to feel his beloved trench coat about him. It was comforting to wear his own clothes again.

"And if you have any more questions," the doctor offered to Membrane, "don't hesitate to call."

"Of course. Thank you, Doctor," Membrane answered, and then turned to his child. "Well, son, looks like we're going home!"

"I'm glad you're okay, son," the professor said cheerfully as he drove Dib home. "I rarely was able to get any work done this week, worried as I was."

"I haven't even told Gaz you were coming home," he continued. "I just said I was going to visit you. Won't she be surprised?"

"Yeah," Dib's face fell a little. Surprised? Yes. Pleasantly? He wasn't so sure.

Arriving home, the boy headed up the sidewalk to the door with a quite a bounce in his step. He had so longed to be home. Spending almost a week in the hospital with a serious condition had only been made worse by the fact that he couldn't be in familiar surroundings during his stay.

"Hi, Gaz! Guess who?" he called out as he walked in with his dad following. As Dib expected, he found his sister sitting on the couch and immersed in her Gameslave. She jerked her head up with widened eyes, but just as quickly looked back down.

"Oh…you're home."

"Well, I'll leave you two to enjoy each other's company," Membrane said contently and strode off to his laboratory.

Dib only stood in silence for a moment, waiting in case Gaz had anything else to say about his return. When she only continued to play her game, he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "So…I'm back for good. Don't have to go back for any follow-ups or anything…I'm gonna be okay…"

Gaz did not even acknowledge that he had spoken, so Dib decided he would be heading off to his room. It was then that he noticed for the first time the blue shirt and black pants she was wearing.

"Gaz…are those my clothes?"

Her eyes darted up to his in surprise. "Uh—Uh…what?"

"My clothes," he pointed. "Isn't that one of my outfits?"

Gaz looked down at herself nervously. "Oh, yeah, that. All my clothes were dirty."

"And one of my trench coats?" He noted the garment worn over the shirt.

"It's…cold in here." Her eyes began to wander uncertainly.

Dib raised an eyebrow, but decided to leave things be, and started to his room. But as he set foot in the upstairs hall, he heard the rapid thumping of feet on stairs behind him.

"Dib—don't go in there yet!" Gaz called out, rushing past him. "I have to—do something." She hurried into his bedroom, and returned with a pink pillow. She crossed the hall to enter her room, but stopped when she saw the bewildered look on her brother's face.

"_What?_" she demanded, rather defensively.

"Gaz…" he asked, "…have you been…sleeping in my room?"

His sister was frozen in place, almost speechless. "I—I—I—No—I—" She gave up on her struggle for an explanation and opened her door. Looking away from him, she muttered, "I made the bed up afterwards."

As she slammed her door behind her, Dib couldn't help but crack a smile at all he had just seen. He walked over and entered his own room feeling the best he had felt all day. Carefree, he lay down atop his bed to relax, but slightly bumped his head on the hard object he had noticed sitting on his pillow. He sat up and looked at it, but blinked in shock when he realized what it was. A can of soda. A full, unopened can of soda. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed that it was still attached to an otherwise empty six-pack of plastic rings.

A wave of pure happiness washed over Dib as he opened the soda and took a swig. It was good to be home.


	8. The Eleventh Hour, Forward

Author's Note: "Forward" can be seen as a continuation of "The Eleventh Hour".

**The Eleventh Hour**

The boy sighed listlessly, the first sound made inside the room in a while. Outside in the hall it was a different story. Feet pounding on the floor, gurney wheels squeaking; everyone was in a hurry. Constantly this ward was receiving new patients in urgent need of care. Dib monotonously fiddled with his hospital wristband and studied the ceiling. He wished he had something to do as he lay in bed; something to take his mind off…off of the cause of that occasional "boom" off in the distance outside…off of the reason the hospital was starting to become crowded…off of the cataclysmic event he wished he was able to take part in…

There was nothing to do in the room but sleep. There was a TV, yes, but there was literally nothing on. The TV stations had stopped broadcasting. All of them.

Dib wished someone was available to talk to, but everyone was understandably busy. He glanced over at his roommate, who was busy in his own way, getting some needed bed rest. He looked so peaceful as he slept. Dib had not been able to have a peaceful sleep since this catastrophe began. Especially knowing that while it was taking place not so far away, he was stuck here, waiting, fearing, hoping, and praying.

Another _boom_ startled him; his roommate shifted slightly in his sleep.

Dib stared on the wall at the orifice that had recently had steel plates welded over it as a safety precaution against breaking. Part of him wished he could have a window. Part of him wanted to see how things were going outside; how his people were faring without him. But part of him was scared to know. He ached to be out there with them, fighting for all mankind, perhaps even as a leader or strategist. It tore at him that he was confined here, unable to take part in the battle he had always felt _he_ was meant to lead, and that hurt much, much worse than his several broken bones.

The darkest days had come, Earth's ultimate trial, and on the very first day, when only the first few ships had arrived, Dib had been so suddenly attacked and rendered unable to continue fighting.

He remembered that on the night he was checked into the hospital, he had received a very unexpected visitor.

"_You've done much more than your part already," Gaz had mumbled. The entire time she never looked up to meet his eyes, but he could see the terror in her eyes. She had never considered the invasion real until now._

True, he had done so much more than what could be expected of a ten-year-old child, but he still wished he could do more. He could not stand just lying in bed…waiting…

He was jerked out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. It opened and a nurse poked his head inside.

"A visitor, Mister Dib," he said hurriedly. Dib nodded and the nurse rushed off on his way, with many other duties to attend to.

In stepped his visitor. Dib's father wore the same white lab coat and blue goggles as always, which gave Dib a comforting sense of normalcy.

"Nice to see you, son," Professor Membrane approached the boy's bedside.

"Dad," the boy smiled, and was patted gently on the head.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked.

"Better," his son said in a hollow voice. "How are things out there?"

Membrane paused and sighed softly. "Things…are not quite looking up yet, but we're hanging in there."

"Gaz?"

"She's doing fine. Makes quite the fighter pilot."

Dib smiled halfway and turned his gaze downwards.

"I know you wanted to help," Membrane said sympathetically. His son nodded wordlessly, and the two shared a moment of silent companionship.

"Minnow to Catfish," a voice intoned from Membrane's communicator, "you're needed Upstream, over."

The professor breathed heavily and held down a button on the device. "Catfish to Minnow, I'm on my way, over." Releasing the button, he turned to Dib, disheartened.

"Guess I have to be going," Membrane waved and headed to the door. Pausing, he glanced back. "I'm sorry I never listened."

As his father left, Dib felt a hot pressure behind his eyes. Many of the Armada had come and now everyone believed him…and he couldn't be there to lead the human race to victory.

He turned and buried his face in his pillow. The Armageddon was happening outside, and Dib could only pass the time.

**Forward**

The explosions sounded. The battle cries and cries of terror rang out. The sky darkened with the approaching ships and missile fire. Battle. Oh how Zim had missed it.

The proud Irken stepped up onto an overlooking peak and surveyed the opposing forces below. The most pitiful forces, as he would have anyone think.

The time had come. The invasion of Earth had begun.

Only a few weeks before, he had contacted the Tallest with a request for a few troops to assist him in conquering Earth. He had inadvertently interrupted an interplanetary conference with several dignitary powers from across the galaxy, but to Zim's delight, the Tallest granted his request (he ignored the "Hopefully that will shut you up for a while.")

The invader now raised his arms to the sky, and his signature evil laughter rang out.

"Sir, the troops are in position," his sub-commander reported. "We are awaiting your commands."

"Excellent," Zim grinned. "The time is upon us. On my mark, soldier; I want to savor this moment."

And savor it he did. His eyes swept across the land, across the approaching human militia; much like the Armada's cannon would soon sweep across them. 'And I will finally be rid of them,' he thought, stifling a nearly uncontrollable cackle. 'Rid of those filthy worm-babies at skool; rid of those filthy scientists who would jump on the chance to dissect Zim if he were discovered; rid of—"

"_Yehhhsss,_" he grinned eagerly. "I will _finally_ be rid of…_the Dib._"

He took to scanning the area again, only this time he attempted to zero in on his archenemy. Even with his superior invader optical implants, though, he couldn't seem to locate the Dib. He squinted at the front lines, expecting his arch nemesis to be leading them, but he saw no sign of that familiar black hair scythe. Perhaps it was under a helmet? Zim yanked away the nearest Irken scout's binoculars and looked through them. Still no Dib. Anywhere.

"What? Where?" He lowered the binoculars, a hint of concern crossing his face. Where could he be? Perhaps he was hiding, lying in wait to ambush…no, that didn't quite sound like Dib. He would be at the front, leading his beloved human race in the war. So why wasn't he there?

'Is he…injured?' Zim wondered, '…dead?'

"Your orders, sir?" his sub-commander requested, seeing that the commander seemed to be finished relishing the moment.

"Mustn't worry about him," the invader told himself. "The invasion must proceed. And without the Dib…mankind is doomed."

He turned to his sub-commander and opened his mouth slightly, beginning to speak. But he closed his mouth gently and slowly turned away.

'What are you waiting for? Give the order!' his mind yelled excitedly. 'They're helpless! Time…for…doom!'

But…without Dib? That had been his mission all along—conquer Earth, destroy the humans; the absence already of one of them should not make the slightest difference. Yet…over the few years he had been on this planet, his mission had become much more…In some ways, his mission had become focused on—

A pit formed in Zim's squeedily-spooch. It would not be the same.

"Your orders…sir?"

Zim took a deep breath, and, not taking his eyes off the humans, gave his orders.

"Call it off."

The sub-commander paused. "Sorry, sir?"

"Call. It. Off." The commander turned to him. "Cancel the invasion. Tell the ships to depart."

"Sir, we can't—"

"You have your orders, soldier!" Zim raised his voice. "Now do it! We're going home!"

His subordinate looked at him, bewildered. "What will we tell the Tallest?"

"You will tell them that circumstances have interfered." Zim again eyed the humans below. "Now go."

The sub-commander hesitantly spoke into his communicator. "Attention all troops. The invasion of Earth is hereby cancelled. All troops pull out, over."

Zim took out his own communicator. "Gir, bring the Voot Runner around. We're leaving."

The subordinate stared at Zim before boarding his own ship. "I'm surprised at you, Invader Zim. I really am."

Zim said nothing, but crossed his arms and buried his shaking hands under them. He knew the risks he was taking with this sudden move, and the great losses he was accepting.

'Not only am I not conquering this ball of dirt, and sparing it instead,' he thought, remembering the Planet Jackers, 'but I also saved it once before.'

But as the Voot Runner halted to a hover near him, something deep within him told him he was doing the right thing.

He took one more glance at Earth before climbing aboard and flying away. "Don't say that I never did anything for you, Dib-stink."


	9. Reintroduction

**Reintroduction**

"Okay, let's try this," the counselor pulled the pen from behind her ear and located her notepad. "Remember, you're starting over; just pretend you've never even heard of each other."

A long sigh. "Okay. Hi there, I'm Dib." He stuck out his hand.

"Hello," came the response. "I am Zim! Your slave master-to-be—" a glance to the counselor "—er, despite my being normal."

"No, no," the therapist said.

"_Yes I am! I'm more normal than you will ever be!_"

"No, I mean leave out the aggressive language. No more talk of enslavement or weaponry or violence. Just introduce yourself. Let's try this again."

"Whatever," Dib re-extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Dib, you jerk."

"No, Dib," she scolded. "What did I just tell Zim? Try again."

"Fine. Hi there, I'm Dib." The hand went out again.

"Hello, I am Zim." Zim broke off his sneer and stared at the boy's hand.

"Well, Zim?" the counselor prompted. "Shake hands with him."

"Ew!" Zim shrank back. "He's probably got all kinds of filthy, big-headed, disgusting _hyoooman_ germs—er—which I don't want to mix with my much more normal human germs."

"But Zim, you're wearing gloves," she pointed out.

"Yes, but—"

"You've gotta shake hands to look normal, Zim," Dib taunted.

"_You_ shut up! Before I unleash my enslavement and weaponry and violence on you! As well as my aggressive language of doom!"

The therapist pinched the bridge of her nose and mentally sighed. '_No wonder this skool goes through so many counselors._'


	10. Tutoring

**Tutoring**

"See, if you reconfigure the splobeegor transponder so that the output is equal to the coefficient of the trans-linear—_Are you listening?_" Zim pouted, agitated at having to interrupt himself.

The head of his "student" shot up from the utility desk, jolted awake. "Huh-what-heh-oh…Right…yeah, I get it, Zim." He moved a hand under his glasses to rub at a bleary, bloodshot eye.

"_Do_ you?" Zim returned to the large touch screen and effortlessly drew out an absurdly complex equation with his stylus. "Then perhaps you could tell me what 'x' is?"

"Uhhh…89y5?" Dib propped his head up on one hand.

"No, _this_ 'x', stupid pig-stink," the Irken rapped at one of the equation's variables.

"They're different numbers?" Dib was confused. "Then why aren't they different letters? How am I supposed to solve the equation if a single variable can stand for more than one number?"

Zim rolled his eyes as if it were obvious. "Any scientist worth his ketchup would know, Dib. Typical hyooman."

The boy yawned. "The phrase is 'worth his salt', Zim."

"What does it matter? A filthy Earth food condiment is a filthy Earth food condiment. They all go on filthy Earth food."

Dib tiredly pointed to a diagram on the upper half of the screen. "Why are we even on the subject of splobeegor transponders? That's Irken equipment. The university's not going to be teaching about _that._"

"That's the problem with your primitive human universities," Zim waved his hands—and by extension, the stylus he was holding—in annoyance. "Now in the Irken educational system, you'd have learned this stuff in our equivalent of your—kinfolk-garage."

Eyelids beginning to droop again, Dib did not feel up to the task of correcting his tutor on the word "kindergarten".

"I don't even know why I'm teaching you all of this," the alien complained.

"To prove your 'mental superiority' to me, remember?"

"_Of course_ I remember!" Zim snapped. "I _meant_ that with the painfully low standards of your Earth colleges, you could gain admission _without_ learning this."

By force of habit, Dib initially took offense to the Zim's insult towards his people's educational institutions, but before he could retort, he began to take the alien's words a different way. "Are…Are _you_ saying I'm smart?"

Zim, looking surprised at first, sneered at his nemesis and chose his words carefully. "For a human. Now as I stated in the previous lesson, the module's key components are the convex garblogish lenses in Figure A and—"

"Okay, great, Zim, but it's midnight. I gotta get some sleep."

"_Again?_" Zim exclaimed in irritation at the human. "You just did that last night!"


End file.
